


Being Angela Morgan

by NotTheSmoooze



Category: Original Work
Genre: Astral Projection, Bodyswap, Complete, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, Magic, Magic School, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:15:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22159975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotTheSmoooze/pseuds/NotTheSmoooze
Summary: Being Angela Morgan was, in a lot of ways, what I'd been wishing for. Actuallybeingher was a lot more stressful than I'd expected.
Relationships: Daphne o'Cain/Angela Morgan, Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Comments: 5
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

Being Angela Morgan was, in a lot of ways, a fantasy of mine. I'd even wished for it. Not out _loud_ , and not her _specifically_ , but when I thought of the sleepless nights I'd spent mired in self-loathing, praying that some quiet god that I'd never believed in would, somehow, for some unknown reason, suddenly raise their voice and grant my wishes... well, those wishes looked an awful lot like what she already had.

For one thing, she was gorgeous. I wasn't the kind to stare, but she was the kind to be worth staring at. Feminine in all the ways I wasn't and then some. Beautiful. She was smart, too, and she wasn't shy about it, cresting the top of all our shared classes and putting the likes of me to shame. She was a genius, a prodigy. Everything I wasn't, and everything I so desperately wanted to be.

Despite all that, actually _being_ Angela was a lot more stressful than I'd expected it to be. 

I sat in her seat at her desk, holding her wand and staring down at her notebook. Her long, blonde hair tickled my nose, her glasses sat high on my face, and I, amidst all of it, sat in her body. It was all I could do not to panic. I would have, but before I could, a sharp jab to my shoulder snapped me back to my senses.

I turned to my right - her right? - and saw _my_ body, holding _my_ wand, pulling its hand back after prodding at my new shoulder. Its face looked furious, alarmed, shocked; there were so many contrasting emotions tugging at it. Eyes squinting, brow crossing, lips twitching. _Have I always been that expressive?_

You'd think, of all faces, I'd at least be able to read mine, but under the circumstances, I think I can be forgiven for being a little off-kilter.

 _"Don't. Say. A. Word,"_ my body hissed under its breath. _"If people find out we messed up this bad, we'll fail, and I am not taking this class again."_

Something twigged.

 _"Angela?"_ I mouthed the word, not making a sound. 

The only response I got was a sigh, and a single fierce nod of her/my head.

I fought to keep my jaw un-dropped. How could something like this happen? My memories felt so scattered, except... I looked around at the rest of the class. The classroom was old, with dark hardwood flooring, and walls that really ought to be flaking with age but hadn't quite got around to it yet. It was lit by conjured flames held in glass jars, bobbing faintly in rhythm with the sounds of darting quills. Students sat in pairs, pouring over shared notes.

I looked down at the book on my desk. Angela had scribbled fierce and precise notes in long messy paragraphs all over it. Her writing was surprisingly hard to read, but some instinct took over and I found myself skimming through pages of scratchings. I patched together my memories as I read.

We'd been put into a pair for the next few weeks. Right, I- I remembered that. Working with her. It was nice. She was bossy, and immediately took charge as the informal leader of our group, but I hadn't minded. Her confidence was earned, and I was determined to at least be a good teammate. The horror dawned on me as I remembered exactly what we'd been studying.

Visions of the world cast in an ethereal blue rocked my mind. I remembered something being severed. The feeling of floating away from my body, my real body, and seeing it and everyone else slump still, asleep, echoes of magic still visible and hanging in the air. Angela slumped next to me, as unconscious as anyone else. The spell had worked, everything had gone according to plan, and then... I'd felt a tug in my stomach, the feeling of being _pulled_ towards something, and...

The way Angela grit her teeth and refused to look at me only confirmed what I already knew.

I flipped backwards through the book, and stared down at the title underlined at the top of the first page of Angela's notebook.

_ Astral Projection. _

And we'd got it wrong.


	2. Interlude | Angela

Being Daphne O'Cain seemed like it would be a challenge at the best of times. Honestly, I'm not sure why she's so committed to it.

Her body was serviceable. More-or-less. Smaller than I was used to, overall. Skinnier, but more muscled, too; light and lean. I was wearing a bra, but it was much smaller, and much less needed than my typical underwear. Her hair was just as long as mine, but it was black, and she kept it tied up, her neck bare. Plus, she didn't need or wear glasses. It felt... strangely freeing. Or it might have, if not for one _extremely_ distracting feature.

Said feature was currently prodding against my inner thigh, stretching my tights but hidden by my skirt. It was _warm. Very_ warm. And... intense. I tried to ignore it, to will it to quiet down, but it completely failed to listen to me. 

I hadn't known that Daphne was, well- not that there was anything wrong with that, or that it was bad, just that she never seemed- not to imply that- oh, for god's sake, it's _attached_ to me. I could worry about accidentally being rude later.

I crossed my legs, frowning, and looked to my left, eyes narrowing on my body's current occupant. Daphne was fidgeting constantly, and utterly failing to hide it - readjusting my glasses, blowing my hair out of my face, and tugging at the straps on my bra.

If I could tolerate another 5 minutes of this, I deserved an award.

I cursed myself for whatever error we'd made. This shouldn't have happened. Astral projection was advanced, sure, but any class they teach en masse can't be _that_ dangerous, and we hadn't been warned about anything like this whatsoever, nor had I read about it in any book. 

Still, alarmed as I was, I couldn't help but consider the possibilities. Could this be a new discovery? Plenty of great minds, scientists and sorcerers alike, simply stumbled upon their crowning achievement. To place a mind in another body... this could be revolutionary.

I was barely paying attention by the time the lesson came to a close and we were dismissed. _Angela_ would have hung on every word, but then, I wasn't Angela right now, was I? Not as far as anyone but Daphne knew, at least, and after her shock, she'd attempted - admittedly, quite valiantly - to act her new role, taking to my notebook like a duck to water. I'd have to rewrite it all later, but the thought counted.

I made my exit, testing my new frame and stride as I paced back and forth outside the classroom door, waiting for Daphne to follow. Agonizing moments passed, but soon, Daphne emerged, carrying my belongings over one shoulder, eyes locked straight ahead and forehead beading with sweat. As if fighting the urge to scream 'IMPOSTOR' and make a break for it.

I took a deep breath, and prepared for an argument. "Listen, we can't let people know about this."

Daphne immediately nodded, worried expression still on her face.

I turned, ready to retort, and paused. "Wait, you... agree?" When she only nodded again, I continued. "Why?"

A blush spread across her cheeks. My cheeks. God, but this was strange. "This is probably the most notable thing that's ever happened to me here, and I don't want that to be my... 'thing', I guess? I'm okay with anonymity. I can't be 'the kid that turned into their AP partner'."

I paused. I had literally no idea how to reply to that.

Apparently taking my silence for offense, Daphne kept talking. "Not that you're a horrible person to turn into, or anything! This is fine. Great, even! Well, I mean, not great, but, well. You know what I mean, right? Just, this is the weirdest thing that's ever happened, and I don't wanna get typecast."

"No, it's fine. Really," I frowned. It felt different. New muscles. "Alright, here's our plan. Our next class on astral projection is in two days. We have to be able to keep this a secret until then, and we'll spend those days doing all the research we can and preparing to repeat whatever it is we did. Problem solved, no-one's the wiser."

"But what if it doesn't work? If we can't fix this?"

I winced, but did my best to force a smile. "Worst case scenario, someone here's got to be able to fix this, and if not... well, let's not bother thinking about that, but it couldn't be that hard to explain. Right?" 

She didn't seem reassured.

"Look," I put my hand on her shoulder. "I've got a perfect record for a reason. We'll learn whatever it is we did wrong, we'll undo this, and we'll do it all without getting caught. I know it."

I gripped her tight, then pulled away, and walked off to find a quiet palce to read, calmly assuring myself that the academic possibilities were absolutely the only reasons for my excitement.


	3. Chapter 3

Being Angela Morgan was- _woah those are big._

Embarrassed, I squeezed my eyes shut and fumbled for the shirt I'd left on Angela's desk, pulling it over my head and wriggling into it. Feeling an uncomfortable itch down my spine, I dug my hands down the back of my collar and pulled my long, now-blonde hair free and let it dangle down my back. Another reason I usually kept my hair tied up.

Was it rational to feel guilt about looking at my body? It would've been extremely creepy to actively go 'exploring', but getting changed into sleeping clothes without looking at or touching anything Angela usually kept private was tricky, to say the least. 

We'd decided to stay in each other's dormitories, at least for the time being. It'd be odd if we suddenly swapped bedrooms without explanation, and we didn't want to draw any unnecessary attention. 

One of the many, many things I'd realized about Angela today is that she wasn't a pyjamas kind-of girl. The drawers I'd allowed myself to open hadn't contained the soft pyjama bottoms and oversized t-shirts I'd become used to. Instead, I found a variety of nighties and robes, most decorated with flowers or simple patterns. More 'comfortable' than 'sexy', but still. Another step into unfamiliar territory.

Belatedly, as I fell backwards onto Angela's bed, I realized I'd left my bra on.

Sighing, I shifted my arms under my shirt, finger softly running up the centre of my back until it hit fabric. I pinched the clasp, unlocked it, and as I shook my arms free, immediately felt a _powerful_ relief in my shoulders and sides.

I'd heard countless stories about the feeling. Hell, I regularly wore a bra myself, and I knew full-well how uncomfortable they could be. Neither had prepared me for the sheer freedom of tearing it off. _God, she does this every day?_

Don't get me wrong. I'd take whatever devil's bargain you offered me for boobs like these, no matter the neck pain. Sure, I _had_ boobs, even if I got them in an unconventional way - HRT was a godsend, and _magical_ HRT was better - but they weren't much to write home about. These? I could live with these, even if they were heavy.

I fell back down onto Angela's bed, and shimmied over to her pillow. My boobs, apparently sensing that I couldn't stop thinking about them, _noticed_. As I moved, my nightie brushed my now-bare breasts, and I froze up. The sensation wasn't much by itself, but I'd already been fighting the urge to think about what was happening to me, and... my body didn't want fight anymore.

 _Gah._ I needed to be careful. I couldn't keep thinking of it as my body. It was a dangerous habit to slip into. I was pretty sure Angela would want it back, at some point, and no matter how envious I was, I could hardly keep it from her. Even if I could, I would never do something like that, especially not to someone as, well, nice might be a slight exaggeration, but Angela was still a good person.

I hadn't learned anything worth a damn today. The library hadn't offered anything immediately obvious, nor had rigorously scanning through Angela's notes. Seeing as she hadn't come chasing after me with a book in one hand a wand in the other yet, I assumed she'd fared about the same.

My memory of the swap was still blurry. I know I'd been floating close to Angela's body, but that couldn't be it. Otherwise, events like this would be far too common. Besides, I hadn't been _that_ close. Just... looking. She was cute when she slept.

I couldn't help but wonder if she'd been looking at me the same way. I dismissed the thought quickly. She almost certainly wasn't. She was _Angela Morgan_. I was... not. Not usually, anyway. People like her aren't friends with people like me, never mind anything more than that.

But then, Angela didn't seem to have many friends. Or any, really. I'd prepared excuses, should someone quiz me or raise a question I should know the answer to, but no-one had asked. No-one had noticed me acting strangely. No-one noticed me at all, outside of the few stares I got from strangers in the halls. 

Maybe isolation was something we had in common. I'd never been a social butterfly. More of a moth, or a particularly grumpy larvae. I rubbed my face with my hands, pinching my nose. I had so many questions, and there were only a handful I could ask without being probably the worst AP partner, and maybe friend, in the world.

I grimaced, and rolled onto my side - sleeping on my back felt like an elephant was standing on my chest - and resolved to save my worrying for tomorrow.

I couldn't sleep for at least another hour.


	4. Chapter 4

Being Angela Morgan had been fun, at first. Not that the excitement had faded. It really, really hadn't. Tension built every second, and I had to force myself to keep my mind on the task at hand, and away from things I really, really shouldn't be thinking about.

No. Being Angela was still lots of fun. It's just that the fun of it was currently being smothered by inches and inches of thick leather-bound tomes, each so ancient they were nearly unreadable, and the acres of dust we'd found inside them. Apparently astral projection mishaps weren't a common topic of research. These books hadn't seen the light of day in a _while._

I'd expected the librarian to question us when we asked about them, but they'd just taken one look at me - or, I suppose, at Angela - and waved us through. Apparently her reputation as a bookhound preceded her, even when it came to the more obscure kinds of occultism and arcanery our library kept stocked.

And so we sat and read, surrounded by towers of titles only tangentially related to our problem. I tried - really, I did, for hours - but I was bored beyond belief. What I _hadn't_ expected was for Angela to be having a harder time than I was.

She hadn't been able stop fidgeting for hours now. Ever since we'd met here, she'd been restless; bouncing her legs, rapping her knuckles against bookshelves, and drumming her fingers along her thigh. Most of all, she'd been constantly crossing and uncrossing her legs, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. It wasn't until she crossed them once more and winced that it hit me.

 _Oh._ "Uh, Angela?"

She tensed, but turned to face me. She kept her head down, avoiding really looking at me. "What is it? Have you found something?"

I paused, considering how to approach this. It was an awkward subject. "No, I was just wondering. Are you... feeling alright? Anything wrong?"

She shook her head, still not looking at me. "No, not at all. I feel fine. Why?"

"Oh. Uh. Just that," Well, here goes nothing. "If it's something physical, I might be able to help? It's my body, after all. I might know what's wrong."

Angela froze. 

"Not that you have to tell me," I hastily added. "Just, y'know. Whatever it is, it's not like we have any secrets left, right?"

That got her attention. She looked at me, actually looked at me, and spoke. "Alright, fine. But I want to know. Why didn't you tell anyone about your, well..."

"Dick?" I finished for her.

She blushed, and looked away again. "If you want to put it that way, sure. That."

I deliberately avoided frowning at her. I wasn't angry. Not really. I was pretty sure she'd never had to wonder about anything like that, and it wasn't the kind-of thing you learned in centuries old books about wizards. Still, the way she phrased it bothered me. "I don't see why I should have to? It's not like I hid it any more than anyone else does. For all you know, any girl you know might have one, or vice versa. What's in my pants isn't anyone's business except mine." I hesitated, then continued. "And yours, now, I guess."

Her face twisted into a grimace. "I'm not... god, you're right. I'm sorry, it's just... it's _getting_ to me. It's always _there_ and it's so _distracting_ , and it keeps... _doing_ things at completely random times!" Her voice became louder, almost shouting. "I have absolutely no control over it or what it wants, and I have no idea what I'm supposed to do with it! I can't focus like this!"

She was silenced by a loud "Ssssssh!" echoing throughout the library.

Angela slumped, falling back into her chair and holding her head in her hands. "I just... don't know how to deal with it."

Sympathy panged through me. I hadn't always been so content with that particular bit of anatomy, and I knew exactly how she was feeling. Even worse, here I was; it'd be hell to explain, but if we were stuck like this, I was pretty sure I could get used to Angela's body. Did she feel the same? She hadn't seemed too distressed so far, but what if I just hadn't noticed?

"I know this is going to sound really awkward," I started, sitting up straighter in my chair. "But you might feel better if you... give it what it wants?"

Angela blanched. "You can't mean? I wouldn't even know how!" She nearly shrieked, then forced herself back to whisper. "This isn't exactly familiar ground for me! What am I even supposed to do with it?"

"I... could show you? Help?" 

Angela's eyes went wide. I think mine were wider. _Did I really say that? It just slipped out! Oh god. She's going to hate me._

She pursed her lips, eyes still wide with fear, but I knew Angela well enough to notice the curious gleam in her eye when she quickly looked down at her lap before facing me again. "And... and this would stop, after?"

I couldn't believe what I was seeing. It took me a minute to realize she'd asked me a question. "It should help. For a bit, anyway. I can't promise anything."

Angela sat in silence for a while before standing, books abandoned. 

She took my hand, expression serious. "Worst case scenario, we'll still be experiencing something that might be an entirely new discovery." Her lips twitched, showing the faintest ghost of a smile. "Let's go and experiment."


	5. Chapter 5

Being Angela Morgan meant curiosity, and hell if she wasn't living up to it. The trouble was, right now, she was being Daphne instead, and I definitely wasn't as brave an Angela as she was. 

We'd decided to use my room for the, um, experiment — well, Angela had, mumbling something about 'getting into character' — and I hadn't argued. The march through the halls had never felt so fast. Half-jogging, half-walking, neither of us sure whether to dash as quickly as we could or turn our feet to tree roots. 

There was probably a spell for that somewhere. Angela probably knew it.

I'd been so absorbed by my thoughts. _Why did I say that? Why did she say yes? What does that mean? What kind-of friend offers to help another friend do something like that?_

Before I knew it, I was opening my door on autopilot. I held it open for her. "I don't really have many places to..." I moved to say something more, but she was already sitting on my bed, legs crossed. "...sit. Oh. Okay."

I fell in step behind her, sitting at her side. Back straight. I wasn't anywhere near relaxed enough to lie down. Angela hadn't stopped staring at me since she'd sat down; face flashing between guilt, confusion, and frustration, a nervous smile tugging at her lips.

"I haven't done anything like this before." Angela's voice was uncharacteristically small. 

It struck me just how _vulnerable_ she seemed. "Wait, really?" Shit, that came out wrong. "I don't mean anything by that, just... you're, well, you're _you_. You're beautiful."

Angela always seemed so above it all. Aloof. I couldn't reconcile that image with the nervous, shaky girl I'd spent the past day or so with. 

She laughed, loud. "Really? Even now?" She gestured down at her body. _My_ body.

Instinctively, I reached for a joke, but I stopped short before I found one. _No, no, oh my god, you can self-analyse later, but if you don't say something, anything_ right now, _then you're going to look like the biggest freak ever._

I ignored my common sense, and I looked at Angela, really looked at her. I didn't see myself. I wasn't in the way she held herself. Not in the way she'd finally let her hair down, one lock tucked behind her ear. I didn't see myself when habit led her fingers to readjust glasses that weren't there, or in the way she walked like each step was something new to consider. The way she sat in class, posture perfectly straight when she first sat down, slowly slumping as the minutes went by, until class ended with her face buried in her book.

I smiled. It came naturally. Easy in a way most of my smiles weren't. "You're always beautiful. Doesn't matter what you look like, you're you." I blushed a little, and hoped my hair hid it.

Angela didn't speak for a long moment. I felt her shift, half-standing, and I was suddenly afraid I'd gone way too far. She leaned towards me, pulling the curtain of hair away from my eyes. I looked up, confused. She met my eyes, smiling, and planted a gentle kiss on my forehead. 

Her voice was quiet. "Do you still want to do this?" 

I tried to speak, but the words didn't come. _When did my mouth get so dry?_ I just nodded, my own smile small on my face.

Angela reached to her skirt, and looked back at me, tentative. "You don't mind if I...?"

I nodded again.

Angela undid her skirt. Deft fingers quickly left her in underwear, then, after a pregnant moment, naked from the waist down.

_Huh._

Cognitively, I knew it was just a dick. A dick that, for most of my life, had been attached to me. For better or worse. Emotionally, it felt like something else. I looked at it, and I saw Angela's dick. It was attached to Angela, and maybe I hadn't exactly worked out how I felt about dicks in general, but Angela's was... interesting.

She seemed to agree. Her hand hovered around it, not quite daring to touch. It was hard, and I was willing to guess it had been for at least a few minutes now. I watched as she moved her body, her fascination clear in how she studied the way it responded to the soft bucking of her hips.

It was adorable, in a weird way. I fought back a grin. "You know you can touch it, if you like." 

She did like. Apparently she'd only been holding back for my sake. Her fingers immediately started prodding and poking, stroking between her legs as she explored each sensation. Her face was a mix of annoyance and the kind of focus she usually reserved for studying.

I tried to avert my eyes, but I failed. I couldn't look away. It was like watching a car crash that almost managed to be sexy but never hit the mark. _They said it couldn't be done, but I think I've discovered a brand new way to be embarrassed._

I must have stared for at least a minute before I said a word. 

"For what it's worth, it'll feel better if you stop holding it like that." 

Angela looked back up, suddenly realizing what she'd been doing. She turned a bright shade of pink, ready to apologize, or maybe defend herself. I interrupted her.

I spoke, clutching tight to the little calm I'd found. "Do you want me to help? I... it's what we talked about, remember?" 

She looked at me like I was offering to solve a puzzle for her, then paused. Her hand was still resting on her dick, and I saw how tense she was, how much she wanted this. She nodded, and I slowly moved towards her.

My hand reached hers. Not... not what it was touching, not yet. Too much. I held her wrist, her fingers, my hand over hers like a glove. Her skin was warm. I moved until I was at her side, leaning over her shoulder.

There were no words. I held my hand over hers, curled it into a grip, just tight enough to feel good. I slowly guided her hand backwards and forwards, and her shoulder twitched, digging into my chest.

I wrapped my free arm around her back, and, on some instinct, pressed my chest into her arm. It felt _good_. Too good, holding her that way. My eyes fluttered closed, and I focused on the way our hands moved, the feeling of her arm between my breasts each time I pushed towards her.

Her breaths started to come in faint little gasps, and my eyes snapped open. Her head was tilted backwards, eyes shut tight, biting her lip. Her arm moved in pace with mine, urging me faster. I gave her more control, and she rewarded me; her arm, pressed against my chest, reached down and grabbed my thigh, squeezing it _tight_. My breath escaped me, and I leaned into her neck as our arms moved faster, faster, faster-

"Fuck, fuck, I-" Angela's cries were whispers. 

I released her hand, both of my arms wrapping her in a tight hug. I breathed in her smell, her warmth, the sweat running along her neck. Angela turned, without a word, planting her forehead against mine, our breath on each other's lips.

It was all I could do to fight the fire inside me. Every part of me felt hot in a way I'd never felt before.

Angela's breath tickled my lips, and the fire kept growing.


	6. Chapter 6

Being Angela Morgan had never felt so incomplete. My breaths came slowly, falling heavy on Angela's lips, and despite the strangeness, I wanted nothing more than to feel those lips against mine.

Our foreheads still touching, my body burned, and I couldn't sit still. My hands tightened knuckle-white around messed-up bedsheets, my toes curled and tensed, and my chest rose and fell, shaky with want. A want I was afraid to name. I couldn't help but feel wrong for it. I should be repulsed, surely. Whatever this was, it was... unnatural, right?

But Angela was still here. Still staring at me, eyes firm. Hand still held tight to my thigh. 

Something unnatural would burn to touch. This was a fire, but there was no smoke to choke on. It lit my body like a bonfire, but my skin was never charred. Something unnatural would leave us hollow. I'd never felt less empty.

There was a question in Angela's eyes. It was written in the tilt of her brow, the slight twist of her lips, the touch of her palm.

I answered.

_Yes._

Her hand left my thigh as her forehead pulled from mine, and that moment absent her touch was torture. In less than a second, though, she was moving. She turned to face me properly, both hands grasping my shoulders and turning me away from her.

"Trust me?" Her words were fast, her voice low.

My 'yes' came with a breath, nodding as I moved under her guidance.

Angela shifted behind me until I sat between her legs, both spread, her chest pressed tight against my back. Her hands found the skirt I still wore and tugged downwards, thumbs hooking into my tights and pulling both from my hips. 

I didn't look down. I couldn't. I knew what I'd see. I felt Angela's dick pressing against me, rubbing against my lower back with each movement of her hips, and it was _hers_ , but the thing between my legs...

I couldn't look at it. It was a step too far. Sensation was one thing. I was terrified, but so, so excited, and the heat under my skin drove me towards it at every step. Seeing would be something else entirely. I wanted to, _god_ , I wanted to, but that would mean accepting it was mine. I wanted that, even more than I'd already realized, but if I had it, and it was taken away from me?

It would hurt in a way I wasn't ready for. Might never be ready for. 

Angela's touch pulled me back to reality. She started at my hips, hands slowly running up my sides and slipping under my shirt, and her fingers against my waist made me shiver. She didn't speak, but her neck bent towards mine, lips touching my hair, and I felt as she breathed in my scent. 

Climbing further, her fingers found my bra and unhooked it effortlessly. With a shift of my shoulders, it fell from my shirt, and Angela's soft first touches found my breasts. Even the knowledge that she held them made me tremble. Her hands squeezing them, somehow so cold against the heat pouring from my skin, gently at first but growing rougher with every grip, was something else entirely.

A tight grip flattening flesh against my chest. A weight against my back that pushed, hips thrusting, at all the right moments. Careful pinches and tugs that made me gasp, quiet whines escaping from my mouth against my will. I was in heaven. Angela decided it wasn't enough.

A hand left my breast, its partner still eagerly working to tease the other, and ran along my stomach, its touch soft and smooth. 

It didn't stop there.

I felt it move until it was between my legs, fingertips brushing through a small patch of thin, wispy hair before stopping. I could've screamed. I'd never needed anything so deeply. If she stopped, really stopped, I'd never forgive her. Somehow, from my gasps, she understood. Her hand moved again, and I felt something inside me for the first time in my life.

It was soft. Wet. Angela pushed again, and somebody started moaning. Seconds later, I realised it was me. My heart throbbed in my chest, and she didn't stop pushing. Her hand was quick, and practiced motions left me limp against her. I wanted to thank her, repay her somehow, but I could hardly move. I couldn't think to form words. 

The hand still touching my breasts left, moving to my chin, and Angela turned my face towards her own. Her expression, for the first time, was simple. Lust. She was enjoying this as much as I was. The thought made me giddy. Tears wet the corner of my eyes, and I beamed at her. 

Angela's face met mine, and she was too busy kissing me to smile back.

I met her kiss with glee. It was messy, wet, unfamiliar. For all our practice with each other's bodies, our first kiss was terrible. I wouldn't have traded it for anything. Her fingers moved faster as our tongues intertwined, and I felt a shock run through me. 

Angela understood. The kiss grew deeper, more intense. She held my neck with one hand, fingers curling my hair. Lightning struck me. My body felt so far away.

And suddenly, everything was black. 

My eyes opened. I'd fallen, head against the bed. My body ached, and it felt so, so unfamiliar. 

_Angela._

I bolted upright and found Angela sitting in front of me. She looked at me, and reached across the bed for her glasses. When she put them on, her face was the same one she'd had before the accident. Before astral projection. Before all of this.

I was back in my own body. It had never felt so wrong.


	7. Chapter 7

Being Daphne o'Cain again hit me like a crack of thunder. It was a bullet, a viper shooting from the grass, catching my ankle and knocking me to the ground. It was the last day of a summer, and it had come so soon.

I scrambled backwards, looking away from Angela and pulling my bedsheets over myself, suddenly feeling as naked as I was. 

It was stupid. After what we'd just done... but that didn't matter. I couldn't let her see me, not now, not like this. It didn't matter how irrational it was.

"We're back." Angela's voice came quietly. 

I choked back whatever instinct gripped my throat and forced out words, robotic tension in every movement.

"That's... that's great. And no-one found out. We'll get perfect marks."

Angela almost looked surprised. "The test! Right, I-I'd forgotten."

"Wasn't that the whole point of this?" I replied, brow furrowing. "Why we didn't tell people?"

"It was. I just... got distracted by other things, I guess." She frowned. "No, this is good. Great, even. I'm still confused about the why, though. Why this happened in the first place."

I let my head fall. Angela was already focused on other things. I didn't have to worry about her staring at me.

I wouldn't let myself be sad about this. I could be miserable later, but for now, I refused. This was a good thing. I hadn't ruined Angela's life with some stupid mistake, whatever it actually was that I'd done wrong. I bit my lip, eyes shut tight. 

What had I done wrong? The memory was still so fuzzy. Our incantation had gone well, and the spell had worked perfectly, until it hadn't. 

Floating in that netherspace, disconnected from my body. Seeing Angela next to me, thinking about her, I...

Oh.

I remembered.

I looked up, shaken. "Oh, god. This is all my fault."

Angela's head snapped towards me. "What? How?"

"I have a confession." My voice was small. "I've, um. I've cared about- thought about you for a while. Not as a friend. As more than a friend, I mean. A crush. Fuck, sorry, I'm terrible at this."

Angela was quiet for a long moment before speaking. "I know."

She paused, then continued. "That you had a crush on me. Not that you're terrible at this. You're not. But I still don't see how this is your fault."

"Intimacy," I breathed, blushing hard. "It's how astral projections open doors, flick lightswitches, right? Relate to something, focus on it, influence it. Closeness. It's the same principle. I know it's not supposed to work on humans, and I still don't know how this happened, but..." I winced. This was the part I was afraid of. "...but I was focusing on you. Not in a creepy way! Just, focusing. I- I think about you a lot. You're impressive, and cool, and I look up to you? And you were just there, and... and I'm sorry, for all of this. This was all my fault."

I wanted to keep talking, but the words wouldn't come.

Silence reigned. Angela didn't speak, and I couldn't look at her. I was burning in shame, praying for release, something, anything. 

"It wasn't your fault."

The words were faint, but they rang so loud.

On instinct, I turned to object, but Angela stopped me. She'd moved closer, sitting at my side. Her skirt was back on her hips, but her tights still hung loose at her knees, and she looked as frazzled as I felt.

"It wasn't your fault," She repeated herself. "Not just you. How many of us were in that class? Twenty? More? If all it took was someone staring a little too hard, we would've had more accidents like ours. We would've found something in all those books. No. This was a collaborative effort."

Angela sighed. "I knew about your crush. You were really terrible at hiding it. Granted, you didn't _stare_ — and I appreciated that, really — but you smiled whenever I said your name. You were so eager to be helpful, but you freaked if I made eye contact. You were a lot of things, but you weren't _subtle_."

For the first time in the conversation, Angela actually blushed. Her eyes never fell from mine, but shades of red crept into her cheeks all the same.

"And so, when I saw you there, body sleeping... I was curious. Scientifically. For all the time we'd spent together, I still hardly knew anything about you, and, well, I found myself thinking about you. Intently. "As Angela spoke, her blush only grew. "So if you're right, if it was intimacy, then we're both equally guilty."

My eyes were wide, but despite the situation, I couldn't fight the smile creeping up my lips. "Wait... _scientifically_?"

Blush still fierce, Angela snapped back, adamant even as she wrestled her own grin. "Yes, _scientifically_! I was curious about who you were! You're- you're interesting, but you never say anything. Not about who you are, not about how you feel. I've learned a fair bit about you over the last few days, and I know why you kept some secrets, but others? You could've told me!"

"I barely knew you!" I sputtered back.

"Who's fault is that? If you liked me, you should've talked to me!"

I was openly laughing now. The sheets still covered me, and I didn't intend to remove them, but my grip wasn't quite so tight anymore. "Oh? And miss out on this prime research opportunity?"

Giggling, I fell onto my back, and Angela followed suit. We lay by each other's sides, lost in our own laughter.

"Wait," I finally managed. "Assuming we're right, we still don't know why we swapped back just now."

Angela turned towards me, face close to me. "If I had to guess, it's the same reason. Something about the nature of the spell. Maybe we were still technically astral projecting, and our spirits saw a chance to return to our bodies?"

I frowned. It didn't feel right. We would've felt that, a pull on our magic. Angela's face mirrored mine, and I got the feeling she was having the same thought.

Angela mumbled something under her breath. When I frowned, she spoke louder. "Formulation of a question: how can I understand the spell we performed? Hypothesis:," She paused, considering. "We established some form of connection. A thread. Prediction: If we repeat the experiment..."

I finished for her. "It might happen again. Are you sure you want to do that? It might go wrong. We could get stuck." 

_Or nothing could happen, and I'd have to hide my disappointment._

"Worst case scenario, nothing happens, I'm wrong, and we find out what actually went wrong when we fall into a coma few years from now, or something. I want to understand. That, and," Her eyes bored into mine. "I want to kiss you again. We were interrupted, last time."

I didn't speak. Couldn't. Words failed. 

We drew closer. Angela's face met mine.

It was like our first kiss. Wet, messy. Unpractised. This time, it didn't have the benefit of the moment to make up for it. For all that, though, it was still Angela. I would've enjoyed it, loved it, if my gut hadn't been tightening into steel. 

A kiss I couldn't focus on, soft lips and confused tongues.

Then black.

My eyes opened, and my own face stared back at me. Its mouth opened to speak, and I interrupted.

Another kiss. This one hungrier. My arm fell over Angela's side, pulling us closer, and our bodies intertwined.

Black.

I found myself on top of Angela. Or was she on top of me? Clothes were torn aside, thrown to the ground. A lack of shame I hadn't felt in years. A kiss.

Black.

It was a dance. Back and forth. Every step was messy, unplanned, but each movement was so perfect it felt choreographed. Every touch was new, exploratory. Every sensation was alien and wonderful. A kiss.

Black.

The switches came smoother, effortless. We changed bodies between breaths, and it felt so brilliantly natural. In each other's arms, we discovered new ways to feel, new ways to be human. New blessings, new ways to hold, to grab, to touch, to kiss.

Black.

We lay in a tangle. We'd kept going for a long, long while, but our bodies eventually had stilled. The kisses didn't stop. Words of love, words of care, words of laughter and terrible jokes and tears, so, so many tears. Between all of them, a kiss, a thin blackness, and a new perspective.

One of us spoke. I wasn't sure who.

"I don't know what this is. What we are, now. Possession's a thing, even changing bodies, but we're something else."

"I don't want to stop being us." Another voice replied.

The first voice again. "Me neither."

"So let's not. Let's keep being us." 

"Forever? How? Won't people notice?"

"Doesn't matter." 

A pause.

"Forever, then. Or a long time. We'll be us, and figure out the rest later?"

"That sounds good. Really good."

"What now, then?"

"Right now? Right now, I think I want to kiss you some more."

The other voice agreed.


	8. Epilogue

**3 Years Later**

Love had turned on the light, and entirely by accident, we'd found something new. 

Sometimes, I was Angela Morgan, and sometimes, I was Daphne o'Cain. Sometimes, I was both. Sometimes I was neither. I shared myself with Her, and so did She. My partner. We were beyond names, by now. They were masks, and we used them well, but we could be either, and we were.

A kiss had opened the door to the change, but somewhere along that road, it had stayed open. With a thought, we traded faces. Each and every time, it was a question. Both of us asked, and we always answered yes.

_Mine?_

_Yours._

We were never apart, not really. There was distance, but we could cross it with a thought. In lonely moments, we held open the door, but never quite stepped through - we saw double, half of us behind each mask, and forgot who was who.

Our hands were always there to hold. Our hearts were always with the other.

We discovered things about each other, too. Things we'd never realised before we'd become what we were. 

When we were Daphne, we found a confidence that made us giddy. The trust, the surety she'd found... it had lit a bonfire in her heart. She'd discovered a specialty, too - empathetic magic, and a talent for teaching it. My partner and I had spent hours behind Daphne's eyes, explaining what we were, how we'd become ourselves. That it had been an accident never failed to make people laugh.

When we were Angela, we'd found that she actually enjoyed being stared at, the attention, as long as she could escape, once in a while. She'd become a wonderfully shameless creature. No part of her would apologize for or hide what she was, and she shared that strength with the both of us.

Together, we'd introduced ourselves to the world. 

Our families hadn't understood. They still didn't, not really, and maybe they never would... but they weren't quite so hostile anymore, and they'd stopped trying to separate us. Maybe they'd started to accept us, a little. Maybe they'd realized they couldn't stop us.

Our teachers had been disbelieving, horrified, and fascinated, in that order. When they'd finally realized we were telling the truth, they'd immediately looked for a way to 'fix' our mistake. Possession magic existed, but we'd done something more. There was a connection between us, and we didn't know if it could be severed, even if we wanted to. 

We didn't, so that had been that.

The first real surprise had come some two years after we'd first gone public.

A group of three magicians had heard our story. They'd followed in our footsteps, and all of a sudden, we weren't the only ones like us anymore. 

When we'd heard, we'd dropped everything. Both of our bodies met them in person, and on the journey there, our excitement lit our bond like a live wire.

Their relationship was different to ours. They held tight to who they were before, their names were theirs, and they rarely left the bodies they were born with, but even still, there was a connection that tied the three of them together, and it made them more than who they'd once been. Even with two bodies, my partner and I couldn't contain our joy.

That group might've been the first to follow us, but they weren't the last. There still weren't many of us, not really, but every few weeks, we heard of another bond, and it never failed to bring a smile to our faces.

We'd discovered something special, and it was spreading. A new way to be human. A new way to love.

There were detractors. There always were. They didn't matter. Nothing could come between us, and that mattered more than anything else.

No matter what came, we'd face it by each other's side. Together. Always.

_Mine?_

_Yours._


End file.
